


Come Back to Me

by casbuddy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 14:45:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casbuddy/pseuds/casbuddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It happens on a hunt that's much the same as any other. Only this one ends with Cas sprawled on the floor, with his guts being kept in by his hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Back to Me

It happens on a hunt that’s much the same as any other. Only this one ends with Cas sprawled on the floor, with his guts being kept in by his hands.

Sam doesn’t notice at first, too busy with killing the monster in front of him, one of the very few left still standing. He briefly sees from the corner of his eye Cas push Dean out of the way, a shout of Dean’s name but he’s too caught up with the monster that’s aiming for his heart to pay too much attention to it. He assumes nothing terrible happens because the fighting continues, no cries out, just more scuffling and grunts as they try to bring down the last of the monsters.

It’s not until the last monster falls, Dean helping Sam out and jumping behind the monster and grabbing at his shoulders to still him as Sam shoves the blade deep into his chest that Sam gets the feeling that something is terribly terribly wrong. He doesn’t get the feeling often but when he does, he damn sure pays attention to it. Dean, unaware, gives Sam a grin and a wink, adding some self-assured thing about how he’d saved his ass before his gaze lingers past Sam’s shoulder, his face falling, slowly and horrifically, grin fading away, eyes wilting away any sense of joy and filling with nothing but terror.

“Cas,” Dean chokes, pushing past Sam and stumbling over to Cas. Sam prepares himself before he turns around to meet the sight but no preparation would have been good enough as he takes in Cas, sprawled out on the floor, back pressed up against the wall, shoulders slumped as both hands cover his abdomen but even that isn’t enough to hide away the blood seeping slowly into his t-shirt.

“D-Dean,” Cas manages to force out, gasping.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Dean says, panicked and he takes in a deep breath as he shrugs off his coat, his eyes lowering to look at the wound properly, “Hey Cas, take- take your hands away for me, let me see.”

Cas struggles with the idea but he lets Dean peel his hands away slowly, his blooded hands falling to his sides limply. Even from where Sam is standing, he knows that the wound is too deep, too much, that there’s nothing they could do, not even a hospital full of doctors could fix this. Sam stays rooted to the spot, a few feet away from his big brother and his dying best friend, unable to move as he watches the situation. A part of him feels that he should move, that he should kneel down next to Dean and do something, _anything,_ but another part of him, the bigger part knows there’s nothing he can do and that Cas’ last moments need to be with Dean and Dean alone, that they’re both owed that, Sam can’t intrude on this.

Dean takes a sharp breath in but he quickly covers it away, pressing his bundled coat against the wound and he smiles shakily and reassures Cas softly, “Hey, it’s okay, it’s not that bad. We’ll-” Dean’s voice catches but he takes another breath in and carries on, “We’ll put you back together in no time and you’ll be as good as new.”

Cas looks up at him, eyes wide, face already shiny with sweat but he nods at Dean all the same and Sam can’t tell whether it’s because he believes Dean or he’s just agreeing for the sake of it.

“You’re going to be just fine,” Dean promises softly and he moves his free hand down like he’s going to take Cas’ hand in his but when he realises it’s covered in blood, he changes his mind and brings his hand up to cup Cas’ jaw instead, thumb brushing against Cas’ skin gently in comfort.

“Dean, can you-” Cas shudders, shutting his eyes and then opening them, blue eyes bright as they are wet, “Can you do something for- for me?”

Dean smiles at that, a soft, honest one as he dips his head down to meet Cas’ gaze properly, “Anything.”

Cas smiles faintly at that and puffs out a little breath before demanding, albeit shakily, “K-Kiss me.”

Dean laughs at that, a short one of disbelief but it fades away in an instant, instead being replaced with hesitance, staring down at Cas with a trembling bottom lip, voice quiet and small, “You want me to kiss you?”

Cas’ lips lift to a tired smile and stutters out, his breath catching, “P-Please.”

Dean looks at him for a moment before nodding, just the one time, choosing to press their foreheads together first and taking a few shaky breaths and Sam can see that his hands are shaking as he dips his head down, tipping it to the left slightly to capture Cas’ lips against his. It’s a light kiss, barely a brush of the lips but Sam knows it’s the most important kiss Dean has ever had and ever will have. Dean presses their foreheads back together and breathes softly against Cas’ mouth, Cas’ eyes slowly flickering back open, tears trickling down his cheeks as he looks at Dean whose own eyes are wet now but not quite falling yet.

“I’ve-” Cas smiles and he tries to bring a hand up, probably to cup Dean’s cheek but when he realises he doesn’t have the strength for it, he gives up and just carries on speaking, voice rough and more than broken, “I’ve been wanting to- to do that for a while.”

Dean smiles at that, a mixture of a broken laugh and sob escaping his throat as he uses his thumb to gently wipe away the tears from Cas’ face, “Me too.”

Cas stares at him for a moment before letting out a shaky, barely there laugh, like he can’t believe they’d both been wanting this all this time and neither had made the effort to try and make it work, that they’d had to wait until this moment before either had the nerves to do it.

“And there’s plenty more where that came from,” Dean promises, dipping his head down to kiss Cas again, only a peck on the lips but it’s a kiss all the same, “We can kiss all the time, imagine how much we’ll piss of Sam.”

Cas’ eyes flicker shut and breathes out a small sigh before whispering, “I’d- I’d like that.”

“Yeah,” Dean smiles but he falters and he swallows thickly, like he’s trying to keep it together, just for a little while longer before murmuring, brushing his knuckle softly against Cas’ wet cheek, “You saved me.”

Cas nods but he doesn’t open his eyes, like it’s too much effort to do that, “It’s-” his breath catches and he struggles to breathe for a second, making Dean lean out panicked but Cas recovers, not seeming to be disturbed by the moment, “It’s what I do.”

Dean’s face crumbles and he presses his lips together to stop the cry that wants to come out, his gaze lingering over Cas’ face as the tears finally start to fall from his own eyes, “You’re always saving me Cas.”

Cas mumbles a sound of agreement but then his breath catches again and his eyes snap open, body shaking as he looks nothing short of terrified, shaking his head in confusion, eyes locked on Dean’s as he tries to understand what’s happening.

“Hey, shh Cas, it’s okay,” Dean soothes, trying his best to give him a comforting smile, “You’re okay, you’re just going into shock,” he rakes a hand through Cas’ hair, not stopping eye contact for a second, “Shh, it’s okay sweetheart.”

Cas struggles to breathe for a few more moments and he lets out a strangled sound but he keeps his gaze on Dean and slowly but surely he starts to breathe again but it’s shaky and shallow and Sam knows it’s nearly time now, that any breath could be his last. Cas glances over Dean’s face, like he’s trying to remember it all before his head droops, eyes shut and Dean compensates for it by wrapping one arm around Cas’ shoulders, the wound forgotten now, the other resting on Cas’ cheek lightly as he manoeuvres Cas so his head is resting on Dean’s chest, face half buried in Dean’s t-shirt. Slowly, Dean plays with Cas’ hair, pressing his mouth to Cas’ hair too and now that Cas can’t see his face, Dean can stop pretending that everything is okay, his whole pretence collapsing away as he starts to quietly sob, body shaking as he tries to keep the sounds in, his hand slipping down from Cas’ shoulders to hold Cas by the waist, holding him as tightly as possible.

“Dean, it doesn’t-” Cas mumbles, voice barely audible but he sounds calm, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Dean doesn’t reply at first, heavy tears rolling down as his cheeks as he buries his face in Cas’ hair, “That’s-” Dean stutters, barely able to speak anymore between silent sobs, “That’s great Cas, that means- that means that you’re getting b-better.”

“Dean?” Cas whispers, body slumped against Dean so he has to take all his weight, “I- I love,” his voice drifts but it’s obvious that he’s trying to use his last breaths to say this, “I love-”

Any strength left in Cas’ body disappears, stilling in Dean’s arms and the shaky breaths stop short. Dean doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to, he just buries his face in Cas’ hair, both arms wrapped around Cas’ waist now, rocking them gently as he lets out the worst sound that Sam’s ever heard, a broken, strangled wail that rocks through his body, turning into shattering sobs that Dean doesn’t try to stop and it’s all the worse that they echo through the room, the sound of Dean’s sobs repeating back to them like it’s mocking them.

Dean stays with Cas for an hour and Sam doesn’t try and make him let go. Instead he takes all the other bodies out of the room and burns them at the back of the building. He lets himself cry then, away from Dean’s ears because Sam knows he has to be the strong one here, that he has to make sure Dean is okay before he can grieve himself. After taking a few breaths in and out he returns back to the room to find Dean and Cas exactly where he’d left them, only Dean isn’t crying anymore, instead quietly murmuring into Cas’ hair, things that Sam can’t quite catch. When Dean realises that Sam is back, he blinks up at him, leaning out of Cas’ body a little and he asks, throat scratchy, “Are we ready to go?”

Sam nods and he forces out, wincing as his voice cracks because he’s trying to be strong here, “We should- We need to give Cas a- a hunter’s funeral.”

Dean vehemently shakes his head at that, “No,” he goes back to holding Cas tightly against him, “No, we’re not- we’re not doing that. We’re going to bury him.”

“Dean,” Sam murmurs, taking a hesitant step forward, wary that if he gets too close Dean is going to snap and force him to leave, “We need to salt and burn-”

“No,” Dean interrupts him and though his speech is wavy it’s strong too, voice final on the matter, “We’re burying him,” he looks down at Cas as he says it, softly smoothing Cas’ hair down, “There’s coffins back at the bunker and we can- we can bury him around the back, at the garden, there’s space for him there.”

Sam wants to refuse, wants to tell Dean that no, they need to give him a hunter’s funeral so he won’t come back as a ghost, so Cas can properly be at rest but he finds he can’t, not when Dean is clutching onto Cas’ lifeless body like that. And he’s got a feeling that if he were to broach the subject of Cas coming back as a ghost, Dean might agree to it, might actually _want_ it to happen, for Cas to come back, even if it is in ghost form, even after how Bobby’s ghost turned out. So Sam keeps his mouth shut and nods, hoping beyond belief that they won’t have to cross the bridge of Cas coming back as a ghost.

Dean nods at him back before sliding an arm under Cas’ knees, the other staying wrapped under Cas’ shoulders, Dean getting up to his feet, grunting at the weight of Cas but not asking for any help off his brother. He just holds onto Cas tighter, Cas limp in his arms, head lolling back though his eyes are thankfully closed, Sam’s not sure whether he would have been able to see Cas’ eyes as lifeless.

Sam watches Dean for a moment before the sight gets too much and he turns on his heels and leads the way out of there, wondering how one hunt could have turned so horribly wrong.

Gently, Dean lays Cas out on the back seat of the impala, pushing the hair stuck onto Cas’ forehead back, kissing him just above his left eyebrow before standing up straight and shutting the car door.

Even if Dean weren’t shaking like a leaf, Sam still would have taken the car keys from him and surprisingly, Dean doesn’t argue, just silently gets into the passenger seat and lets Sam drive instead. Thankfully, it’s the middle of the night and they’re only an hour or so from the bunker so Sam takes the back roads, making it even more likely they won’t pass by anyone because he knows they would be screwed if someone were to drive by and see Cas slumped on the back seat.

Dean stays silent throughout the drive, eyes trained to the front, never looking back at Cas’ still frame, his jaw tight and hands constantly clenching and unclenching. Sam doesn’t speak up either because he doesn’t know what to say and he’s trying his hardest to keep himself together here because someone who he saw as family is lying dead only a foot away from him.

As soon as they arrive at what has became their home, Dean lurches out of the car and bundles Cas back into his arms, waiting for Sam to open the front door for him. Dean strides past Sam and disappears into the corridors so Sam decides to be productive and find the coffins that they had found only a week ago, picking out the least rotted one, a plain wooden thing with the men of letter’s symbol etched onto the front of it. Only then, when he’s lugging the coffin to the back of the building, does he let himself cry again, sniffling quietly to himself as he cries about the loss of his friend and not just for that, but for the loss that his brother has just been punished with.

After about ten minutes, Dean reappears with Cas’ body and Sam realises that he’d gone to clean away the blood from Cas’ torso and hands and to change his t-shirt into something clean. But even in fresh clothes, it’s obvious that Cas is dead, there’s no angle that can make him look like he’s simply sleeping in Dean’s arms, there’s nothing like that at all. All Sam can see is his big brother carrying the lifeless body of the guy that he loves.

The sun slowly starts to rise as they take their time to prepare everything out the back, a small patch of mud and grass that had recently been turned into a small garden, something that Cas had taken to when he’d first reappeared, human and helpless. Different flowers spurt out of the ground around the edges and Sam knows there’ll be further flowers to sprout from the ground if there’s a good summer and Sam does admittedly find it fitting for Cas’ body to rest here, in the centre of it all.

The dig is tortuously slow and Sam knows that it only seems to be taking so long because he knows whose grave it’s for and he feels himself shaking as he slams the shovel into the ground. He keeps glancing at Dean but he finds no emotion on his face, nothing at all and that hurts too much to look at so Sam focuses on silently digging instead.

Once they’ve dug deep enough, Dean quietly turns back to Cas who’s now lying in the coffin, the lid half open so you can see the top half of him. Sam stays back when Dean leans forward to press his lips to Cas’ forehead, a faint smile on his face as he murmurs something against his skin, fingers gently skimming across Cas’ cheek as he leans out before closing the lid altogether, turning to Sam to silently ask him to help place the coffin into the ground.

“Do you-” Sam clears his throat, looking down at the closed coffin deep into the ground, it feeling so very strange that they’re not doing the usual and burning it, “Do you want to say anything?”

Dean looks oddly calm about it all, face still not betraying as to how he’s really feeling as he answers, clipped, “No.”

And with that, they pick up their shovels and start to close the hole back up.

Sam wakes late into the day and for a very short moment he forgets what had happened last night but it all horrifically rushes back to him and he wants to curl back up and sleep some more, try and forget it again, but he forces himself to get out of bed, throwing on the closest clothes to him and stumbling out of his room and making his way to Dean’s. In the early morning, after they had fully buried Cas, Dean had disappeared back into the bunker, clearly wanting to be alone so Sam had went to his own room and lay there until he’d finally slept restlessly. Now though, after it having been over half a day since Cas had died, Sam knows he has to check up on his brother, that he can’t leave him alone for too long because honestly, he’s worried that Dean is going to do something stupid.

He stops short when he sees that Dean’s room is empty and by the looks of things, Dean hadn’t returned there at all after the burial, bed obviously unused. With an uneasy feeling in his stomach, Sam follows the corridors around the bunker to the kitchen and then the library, not finding Dean there either, the kitchen having not been used since the morning they had all left for the hunt, Cas’ cup still left on the table next to Dean’s half drunken cup of coffee.

Sam doubles back on himself and goes back to Dean’s room, noting that his coat is still there and with a quick check of his pockets, his car keys are there too so he can’t have left the bunker, not unless he had chosen to walk which is unlikely. The fact that Dean has to logically still be in the building puts Sam at ease a little bit but he still feels worried, incredibly so when he shuts Dean’s door with a quiet thud.

He stills when he hears a sound, frowning when he realises that it’s Dean humming of all things. He follows the sound and stops in the doorway when he sees where Dean is, moving around in Cas’ room, humming to himself as he places photos in picture frames on the desk in Cas’ room. Sam watches silently for a moment, eyes pricking with tears as he notices that Cas’ room, that had been bare yesterday, Cas never quite having the time to decorate and make it his own, is now cluttered with stuff, his beloved trench coat, that’s too battered to wear now but Cas had refused to bin it, hanging over the chair at the desk, the teddy bear that Dean had won him with a blush and a roll of the eyes at a hunt that just so happened to situate at a carnival tucked on the night stand, little trinkets and objects that Cas had collected on his journey to them after he’d fallen and became human now on full display on the chest of drawers, placed carefully on there so they each have their own space.

Sam’s so focussed on the newly decorated room that he almost doesn’t notice when Dean stops humming, Dean turning to look at him so Sam can finally see his facial expression and he’s disturbed to find that after only ten hours of burying Cas, Dean is  _grinning._

“Hey Sam,” Dean says cheerfully, nudging one of the picture frames so it’s aligned with the rest.

“What are you doing?” Sam gulps, staring at the picture of all three of them together, one where Sam is smiling up at the camera he’s holding up, Cas is squinting, like he doesn’t understand what’s happening and Dean is looking over at Cas, head tipped back slightly as he laughs.

Dean looks at Sam like he’s an idiot for a moment before he goes back to smiling, looking fully at ease as he gestures at the room around him, “I’m decorating Cas’ room,” he points at the photographs and smiles fondly, “Look, I printed off some of the photos of us, most of them are from when we went to that carnival, you remember? Cas loved it there, he liked the fast rides the best because they reminded him of flying,” his gaze looks troubled for a moment at that but it disappears almost instantly, “And even though we warned him, he ate too much candy and threw up all over the place. And-” he makes his way to the teddy bear, talking animatedly, no sense of grief in his voice or stance at all and if Sam didn’t know any better, he’d think Dean were simply reminiscing to him for the fun of it, like Cas isn’t dead at all, “And here’s the teddy I won for him,” his cheeks tint a slight red as he flicks the teddy’s ear, “I only won it for him because he won that stupid fucking massive one and gave it to me. I still don’t get how Cas knocked all of the things over on the game, beginner’s luck I guess.”

Sam stares back at him, unsure of what to say because what do you say at a moment like this? And he’s still distressed at the fact that Dean is smiling away, like his best friend hadn’t just died only a few hours ago.

Dean’s smile falters a little as he watches Sam’s schooled expression and he shrugs, fidgeting with his hands a little as he explains further, “We were always so busy with shit that Cas never got to sort his room out so I thought-” he gazes around the room, a satisfied smile on his face as if to say he’s done a good job, “I thought I’d do it for him for when he, y’know, when he comes back.”

Sam stops breathing for a second, his face falling as he watches Dean not look him in the eye, gaze locked on the room as Sam tries to understand what Dean has just said, his mind reeling, “For when he-” Sam swallows, this throat feeling like glass, “For when he what?”

“For when he comes back,” Dean repeats and even now, there’s no hesitance in his voice, nothing in the tone that suggests that Dean doesn’t believe what he’s saying.

“Dean,” Sam starts, feeling his eyes well up in frustration or grief, maybe even both as he says slowly, “Cas is dead.”

Dean tenses and his eyes harden as he stares at the teddy bear next to Cas’ bed and he grits out, finally showing some sense of grief, “I know that,” he gulps and then the smile is back, just a small, faint one, but it’s a smile all the same, “But he’s been dead before and he came back,” he finally looks at Sam, eyes wide and hopeful, “Think about how many times he’s been gone, how many times he’s died or just left and he has always,  _always,_ came back to me, no matter what, so this time isn’t going to be any different, he’s going to come back Sam.”

“Dean,” Sam starts but he has no idea how to end the sentence, thinking back to last night, how Dean had been far too calm during the burial for having just lost Cas, how Dean had forced the idea of burying Cas rather than burning him, Sam only just realising now that that decision must have been made by Dean so Cas would have a body to come back to when he returned to them, to  _Dean._

Dean gestures for him to leave, voice a little strained as he orders, “Now can you leave me alone so I can finish sorting out his room?”

Sam stays there for a moment, watching Dean open the wardrobe of Cas’, cleaning it up a little, back to humming now, before he turns and leaves his big brother to it, knowing that this sense of unabridged hope that Cas is coming back to him is going to end up hurting his brother even more in the long run.

“I’m worried about him Charlie,” Sam murmurs through the phone, anxiously looking around him to make sure that Dean doesn’t appear from anywhere to hear him, even though it’s doubtful that Dean would appear in the random, unused room deep into the bunker.

Charlie stays silent over the phone for a moment, probably as troubled about this situation as Sam is and just like him, totally unknowing of how to stop the situation. She sighs over the phone, long and tired before asking, her peppy voice gone, “He still thinks Cas is going to come back?”

“Yes,” Sam says shakily, digging his nails into palm, “At first I thought it was just a defence mechanism and that he would do it for a week and then it would hit him and he would deal with it. But it’s- it’s been three months Charlie and he’s still so sure that Cas is coming back to him.”

“Do you think he really believes it though?” Charlie asks quietly, the connection over the phone making her voice a little fuzzy, “Deep down, do you really think he believes himself?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” Sam says frustrated, “All I know is that he’s not coping, not at all,” Sam blinks away the frustrated tears, “Our whole life we’ve dealt with everyone we’ve known and loved dying, Dean has had to say to goodbye to so many damn people and I’m scared that-” Sam gulps, “I’m scared that when he finally realises that Cas is gone for good, it’s going to be one dead too many.”

Charlie is quiet again for a few seconds, probably mulling it over and Sam waits patiently, desperate for Charlie to have the answers to this, to know a way of helping his big brother. After a few seconds she asks, “How can I help?”

Sam sighs, shutting his eyes and raking a hand through his hair as he asks hesitatingly, “Maybe you could come visit? I don’t know, maybe hearing it from someone else, having someone else to talk about it with, maybe you’ll get through to him?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Charlie promises and Sam shuts off the phone thinking that maybe, just maybe, this will work.

It doesn’t work.

Charlie arrives a week later and Dean’s surprised when Sam walks into the bunker with her in tow but his face quickly breaks into a grin and he’s hugging Charlie like their lives depend on it. The conversation stays Cas free at first, Dean just hounds Charlie on how she’s been and when that conversation fizzles out after Charlie dumps her bags next to the couch and explains her latest convention visit, Dean swiftly changes the subject to some tv show or other that Sam hasn’t even heard of. Sam’s not sure but he’s got a feeling that Dean is rambling about other shit so Charlie can’t have time to talk about Cas. Dean must realise that Charlie knows about Cas’ death and that probably means that he knows exactly why Charlie is here but Dean just carries on talking about random other stuff, not letting the conversation even go near the territory of Cas. But even Dean reaches a point of not knowing what else to talk about. They’re all sitting on the couch, television playing in the background and no-one paying attention to it and it’s that exact point that the conversation lulls, drying up quickly and that’s when Charlie brings it up.

She clears her throat and looks at Dean, looking positively terrified as to how he’s going to react as she says, clear sadness in her voice, no pretence needed, “Dean, I’m really sorry about Cas, really really sorry.”

Dean tenses, jaw tightening and Sam can see from where he’s sitting that Dean’s hand clenches into a fist on his thigh.

“He seemed like a really cool guy,” Charlie chooses to continue, smiling faintly, “I wish I’d gotten to meet him.”

Dean face masks into a smile, though his fist stays clenched as he says easily, “Yeah, he would have liked you,” he laughs, just once, “I think you would have confused him though but he would have liked you.”

At first, Sam thinks he’s going to leave it at that and Sam starts to wonder whether Dean isn’t going to keep up the idea of Cas coming back when Charlie is around, that maybe he’ll only say it in front of Sam and no-one else because if he does that, he can ignore Sam and carry on believing in the lie. But then Dean opens his mouth, still smiling as he nudges Charlie playfully in the ribs, “You can meet him when he comes back.”

Charlie just stares at him, at an apparent loss for words and Sam gets it, because Sam’s been used to Dean talking like this for three months now but Charlie isn’t and Sam can tell that she’s failing at what to say here, that she’s figuring out how deep this is for Dean and she’s probably realising that she can’t be the one to tell Dean that no, Cas isn’t coming back. Sam doesn’t blame her because just looking at Dean with that hopeful, unwavering smile on his face fucking hurts to look at and it hurts even more to try and take it away.

“Dean,” Sam starts, voice pained because he’s been doing this for three months and it’s getting harder and harder each time.

Dean tenses again, his gaze sharply going to Sam, raising his eyebrows in irritation because he knows what’s coming and he snaps, “What?”

“You can’t keep doing this,” Sam tries to say calmly but he finds his own patience wearing thin as he explains yet again, “Cas isn’t-”

“ _Stop_ ,” Dean barks, standing up angrily and for a very short moment, Sam thinks he’s going to stride over to him and punch him but Dean stays rooted to the spot, fists to his sides as he grits out, “Just stop.”

“Dean, you’re the one that needs to stop,” Sam says softly.

“No, you are,” Dean shouts, raising a fist and pointing furiously Sam’s way, “I am sick of you keep on telling me that Cas is gone and not coming back,” his voice cracks but he paints it over by raising his voice louder, “If you are going to keep saying this shit to me then don’t you fucking talk about Cas to me at all because I am  _not_ having you say that shit to me, I’m not. And I’m not having you bring my friends over just so they can say the same shit as you. So from now on, just keep your fucking mouth shut.”

And with that, Dean turns his back on the both of them and storms out, slamming the door shut behind him, rocking it on its hinges.

Charlie leaves the next morning and Dean’s back to normal, hugging her goodbye and waving her off, Charlie choosing to not say a word about the night before, just giving Dean and Sam each a longer hug than normal and telling them both that they can call her whenever for whatever reason they need to.

After that, Dean and Sam don’t talk about Cas anymore. Sam doesn’t mention him because he knows he’s going to do more harm than good, that Dean is just going to shut him down yet again and Dean doesn’t mention him because he knows how Sam will react. Sam still wakes in the middle of the night in motel rooms though, hearing Dean mumble hopeful prayers to Cas from the other bed, scattered things about how he’s doing and what they’re going to do when Cas finally comes back, quiet promises to a guy that can’t hear him anymore.

It’s six months in, far longer than Sam had imagined this would last, that he’s frowning as he waits at the front door for Dean to turn up, their plans having been to have left twenty minutes ago for a hunt in the next state over. With an exaggerated sigh, he plods to Dean’s room, ready to yell at his brother to get his ass out of bed and to hurry the fuck up. He’s unable to do that though seeing as Dean isn’t in his room, making Sam puff in impatience, already feeling cranky from not having a good night’s sleep. He turns on his heel and stomps some more and he opens his mouth to shout for him but he doesn’t need to when he sees Cas’ door ajar, Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, teddy bear that he had won for Cas so many months ago limp in his lap, a photograph in one of Dean’s hands, being held delicately by the corner, like Dean is afraid to break it, Dean’s gaze focused on it.

“Dean?” Sam asks quietly, almost scared to break the silence.

Dean doesn’t look up, just murmurs, “He’s really-” his voice cracks and he cradles the teddy bear closer to him with one arm, “He’s really gone this time isn’t he?”

Sam swallows because for six months, Dean has vehemently kept on hoping that Cas would come back, that he would return like he always did, that he would turn up at their door and do his usual ‘Hello Dean’ routine and everything would be back to normal but with probable added affection between Cas and Dean. Everything would be okay again. But now here’s Dean and for some reason, this morning, that’s like any other day, is the morning that Dean realises that no, this time Cas isn’t going to do what he normally did, he isn’t going to return back to him, he’s going to stay a rotting corpse in the garden, nothing more. Sam had been trying so damn hard to make Dean see sense, to see reality, but now Sam’s starting to wish that maybe Dean had kept onto that hope for longer because at least then he’d had just that- hope. Now all Dean has is a decorated room that will never be used and scattered photographs and memories that will never be as good as the real thing.

“Yeah Dean,” Sam whispers, breath hitching, his own grief tumbling to the front all over again, for Cas, for Dean, “He’s gone.”

Dean nods like he’s known it all along and he mutters, face crumbling, “I loved him Sammy,” he chokes on a sob and Sam’s next to him in an instant, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him close to him, desperate to fix this but knowing he can’t. Dean cracks out another wrecked sob, his body lurching as he admits, “Fuck, I _loved_ him.”

Sam looks down at the photo that Dean is so delicately holding, a photo that Sam had taken of Cas and Dean at a diner after they’d just finished a hunt, Dean’s arm hooked over Cas’ shoulders, both of them smiling for some reason that Sam can’t remember, neither of them looking at the camera, their gazes locked on each other as Dean grins widely, Cas smiling fondly back at him.

“I know Dean,” Sam murmurs, shutting his eyes, “I know.”

The next day, Sam walks by Cas’ room to find it’s stripped bare, no sign of it ever having been lived in at all, even the blankets and pillow are gone from the bed. He stares at the empty room for a while before closing the door with a quiet thud, sending out a silent prayer that wherever Cas is up in Heaven, he’s doing okay.

The next room is Dean’s and Sam can’t help but open the door slightly, noticing the photographs that had once filled Cas’ room are now on Dean’s desk, the picture of all three of them and a picture of just Cas and Dean, resting right next to the photo of Dean and Mary on his night stand. The teddy bear that Dean had won Cas is now right next to the giant bear that Cas had won Dean and Sam finds himself smiling faintly at the sight, remembering the moment when they’d both won them, how embarrassed but secretly chuffed Dean had been that Cas had gave him his prize. Cas’ worn trench coat is hanging over one of the many chairs in Dean’s room, the collar frayed with dirt that none of them could get out. Sam’s eyes glance over at Dean who is still sleeping, sprawled over on the bed, one pillow tucked under his arm, the pillow, Sam realises, that used to lay on Cas’ bed.

And Sam knows it’s probably going to get worse before it can become okay again. From his own experience, he knows Dean will never truly get over losing Cas, ultimately the love of his life, but he knows Dean will get through it and the both of them can only hope that their loves are waiting patiently for them up in Heaven.


End file.
